protect bipoc & le gays ⁷ ¹ᴰ

My Husband Read the Word "Abortion" on a Hospital Bill While I Was Still Bleeding From My Miscarriage, Elliot came home from Denver on a Friday night and didn't hug me. He just held up his phone. "Explain this." I was on the couch under a blanket, sore and still bleeding, still waiting for the right moment to say what I'd been rehearsing for three days. The screen showed our insurance app. A claim from Tuesday. Under Procedure it said: Surgical management of incomplete spontaneous abortion. "That's a miscarriage," I said. "Elliot, I was going to tell you in person. I lost the baby." "It says abortion." "That's what they call it. Spontaneous means..." "I read the word, Maribel." His voice was quiet and shaking. "I read it on a bill, in a hotel room, six hundred miles away." "I texted you Monday night. I said call me." "'Call me when you can' isn't telling your husband." "I couldn't say it on a voicemail!" "So you waited until it was done." He sat down hard in the armchair. "You said in September you weren't sure we could afford another baby. You said it twice." "I was scared about money. I wanted this baby." "Did you decide without me?" "Elliot. I was nine weeks along and there was no heartbeat. They told me Monday. I had surgery Tuesday because I was bleeding. I wanted you there. I wanted you more than anything." "Then why does it say that?" I couldn't answer. I was too tired and too empty to fight with a word. That's when the hall floor creaked. Our daughter Josie, seven, stood in the doorway in her bunny slippers. We had told her about the baby at eight weeks. She'd named it Bean. She'd drawn Bean a bedroom on a paper plate. "Daddy said abortion," she whispered. "Is that when you kill the baby?" "Josie, go upstairs," Elliot said. "Did Mommy kill Bean?" "No, baby," I said. "Bean stopped growing. That's all." "But Daddy said." She looked at him. He was staring at the carpet. "Did you not want Bean?" Her chin shook. "I can share my room. I said I would." "I wanted Bean more than anything in the world," I said, and my voice broke. Josie didn't hug me. She backed out of the doorway, one slipper at a time, and went upstairs. Through the ceiling I heard the little thump of her dropping onto her bed, and then nothing at all. Elliot went to sleep in the garage. Rhonda arrived at eight the next morning with his sister Dee and a pamphlet from church. "We love you, Maribel," Rhonda said, in the voice she uses at funerals. "But a woman who hides something like this is a woman who knows it was wrong." "I didn't hide anything. I was bleeding on the couch." "Then why didn't you tell Elliot?" "I was going to tell him!" "It's all right to confess," Dee said gently. "God forgives." "I have nothing to confess. I had a miscarriage." "The bill says otherwise," Rhonda said. Josie was at the top of the stairs again. I saw her shadow on the wall. That night Dee posted on Facebook: Praying for my brother. Some people choose convenience over their own children. Forty-one comments. The church prayer chain asked for "healing of Maribel's heart." A mom from Josie's class messaged me, Thinking of you, no judgment. I hadn't told a soul. Josie stopped talking at school. Her teacher sent home a drawing: a small girl, a sad woman, and a cloud with the word Bean on it. The woman had no face. On Wednesday I had my follow-up with Dr. Castellano. I asked her to explain the bill to my husband, because I couldn't do it anymore. Elliot came. He sat on the far side of the room.

my hometown’s reaction in 2 snapchat stories:

🚨#BREAKING: It’s being reported that the energy throughout the White House tonight is absolute dread and hopelessness. Trump is reportedly just staring at Fox News in near silence, only occasionally uttering “unbelievable”.

Now that harryween is over…how did he not sing LITTLE FREAK. You’re telling me he didn’t get to sing “did you dress up for Halloween”??? 🎃

My entire feed is nothing but people saying they are voting straight republican. There is hope for America.

you genuinely cant make it up man